Why talking about my size was a big issue

My mum watched me trying on my wedding dress with what I assumed was pride in her eyes. “You’ll need to get some of those hold-you-in knickers,” she said and as I sucked in my stomach I felt my heart sink. I’d already lost quite a bit of weight in preparation for my big day but apparently it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t the first time mum had commented on my weight. I remember trying on a quilted winter coat when I was 14. It was like wearing a duvet and I loved it. “It makes you look a bit big,” mum said. “Well I am big so there’s not much I can do about it,” I retorted and kept the coat.

It’s taken me a long time to realise that in fact I wasn’t big by any stretch of the imagination. However I always felt big, especially when I wore that coat.

As a child family members commented on my shape, telling me my puppy fat would disappear once I hit my teens. Instead I developed a large chest which, as I am only 4ft 11in, made me look fatter than I was.

In truth, for most of my life I wasn’t fat at all. I just thought I was and I can’t help thinking that was primarily due to remarks made by others.

These days I’m a size 16. Like most people I’m not always entirely happy with my shape but it’s my body and my business. I’m extremely healthy and I exercise every day. In fact the only thing that bothers me about my weight is other people commenting on it.

Last Christmas I was feeling quite foxy after finally getting back into my pre-pregnancy jeans. Then one of my nephews asked me if I was having another baby. Rather than slink away embarrassed as I would have in the past I said: “No, I’m just fat.” “Obviously,” my nephew replied. Ouch.

Recently, as I left the funeral of a family member, my dad touched my tearful face and said: “You’re getting fat chops.” My husband’s granny once asked: “Have you put it back on, the weight you lost?” It’s not just family. I once met Des O’Connor and he called me “cuddly”. Thanks Des.

W hy do people feel it’s acceptable to make such comments? Sometimes it’s plain rudeness but on other occasions it’s masked as concern or even a compliment. A woman I used to work with noticed my manicured nails and said: “It’s good that you’ve got nice nails. You have to make the best of what you’ve got when you’re your size.”

We don’t tend to comment on other aspects of appearance. If someone has a prominent birthmark we do everything we can not to mention it. Have you ever heard people say anything like “Have you considered a nose job?” or “Hair transplant, eh? Looks good.” I haven’t.

Perhaps people think they’re being helpful. Maybe they think if they point out a friend could stand to lose a few pounds the friend will be grateful and remember them fondly when they’re posing for one of those “after” photographs, holding out the waistband of a pair of massive trousers. Maybe they are genuinely concerned about the other person’s health. It could even simply be that talking about weight, diet and food is so ingrained in many people’s daily dialogue that they comment without thinking.

I honestly don’t think my mum was trying to make me feel bad and she wasn’t usually a tactless person. However she did struggle with her own weight for her entire life, despite never actually being fat. I think that is perhaps the key. It’s easy to judge others how we subconsciously judge ourselves. I’ve heard it said that for many women being told they’ve lost weight is the greatest compliment they could receive. Isn’t it often the first thing we mention when meeting someone we haven’t seen for a while: “You look great. Have you lost weight?”

Aren’t we implying they had weight to lose? So what sounds like a compliment really isn’t. We’re teaching people to focus on our body size and think it’s acceptable to talk about it. I firmly believe it isn’t.

We need to stop doing it and develop the confidence to tell people to keep their opinions to themselves. Yes, even our mothers.